Diary Monday 12th September 1994: Neither Victoria or I can sleep. I have come out of the air-conditioned bedroom into the embalming humidity of the night. There are no more sounds outside. No tree-frogs even. Just the hum of the air-conditioners. I wrote down a quote today: Spiro Kostoff: “Architecture is the Gift of Making places for some human purpose” (Spiro Kostoff ****) The Gift bit sounds a bit wishy washy, “Architecture is the art of making places for some human purpose.” That is good.